Reunion
by Irena K
Summary: Welcome to Pleasantville High's class reunion. Please try to leave all guilt, angst and unresolved sexual tension at the door...


Disclaimer: Not mine. As if you didn't know that.

Feedback: is a girl's best friend. Constructive criticism is actively encouraged.

Author's note: I feel this story especially needs a bit of an introduction. It originally started out as a very basic story – Merton and Lori meeting up at their class reunion. It then expanded into a much longer piece called "Absolution," which, if finished, would be nearly novella length. But then, I got stuck. The story refused to move forward. I had some good plot bunnies and a basic outline, but writer's block had settled in well and good. Thing was, I really enjoyed this piece. Plot was average but I loved writing the dialogue – Merton and Lori banter is a ton of fun. And frankly, their relationship – whether platonic or romantic – gets ignored a lot in fanfic and I really wanted to concentrate on it. Still, "Absolution?" Going nowhere fast.

So I've decided to reduce this back to its original form as a short dramatic piece. "Absolution" may be finished one day – and everything's still open-ended enough to allow for that – but I think this does pretty well on its own. Please enjoy.

Rated PG-13 for language, implied adult situations, and alcohol use.

REUNION

CLASS OF 2002

You are cordially invited to the tenth year reunion

Of Pleasantville High's Class of 2002

Relive the end of the last millennium!

Catch some classic tunes!

Make some new friends!

Or see some old ones!

You know you want to be there!

Come on back to the old alma mater, Saturday, March 28th.

Cocktails begin at 8 PM; Dinner served at 9 PM.

Go Badgers!

****

Merton leaned back in his chair and cracked his back, wincing at the pain/pleasure sensation that traveled up his spine. Normally, he enjoyed book signings; they allowed him to get to know the fans that were just faceless numbers on the publisher's monthly profit report. But somehow this one just seemed to drag on forever, with no end in sight. Maybe he was tired.

Or maybe it was because he was back home again.

He tried to keep his smile up for the next person in line, a waif of a girl with too much eyeliner and an eerily skeletal build that suggested she took her Goth lifestyle a little too seriously. She presented him with a well-loved, dog-eared copy of _Full Moon_. Ah well, at least he knew she enjoyed the book.

"So, what's your name?" He took the novel and opened the front flap, pen poised.

"Selene."

__

And you're only the third one with that name today he thought to himself. "Okay, 'To Selene,' then. You go to school around here, Selene?"

The girl nodded her head so vigorously he wondered if it was going to fall off. "Yeah, Pleasantville High. Is it really true you went there?"

"Guilty as charged. I even survived it." He winked and finished off his signature with a flourish. "There you go."

He handed the book back to her and she clutched it to her chest possessively, like she expected the boy behind her to steal it. "Thank you. This means so much to me."

She blushed and fled back to the group of friends waiting for her by the front doors. He just shook his head and went on automatic pilot for a while, taking books, signing them, making small talk with the fans but not really remembering any of them. By closing time, there were still a few stragglers patiently waiting for him to give them a few moments of his time.

He idly wondered when he'd gotten to be so important.

He rubbed dry, tired eyes and flexed his cramped writing hand. Before he could move another book was shoved under his nose. Swallowing his sigh, he mechanically opened the front flap. "So who am I writing to?"

"Well, usually people call me 'Counselor' these days," a woman answered. "But for an old friend, I think Lori should do."

His head jerked up to see Lori Baxter smiling back at him. Her once blonde hair was now brown, straightened to rest against her shoulders in a simple bob. The pants suit and pumps were conservative but flattered her attractive figure nonetheless. And when she smiled at him, his heart started beating a little faster.

Just like in high school.

"My god, Lori." He returned her grin and immediately rose, enveloping her in a strong hug.

"How've you been, Merton?"

"Good, so far." He stepped back to look at her again. "You look fantastic."

"So do you." She brushed back the short black hair from his forehead. "The spikes are gone."

"Well, we all have to grow up sometime."

"Too true." She seemed about to say something else but just hugged him again. "God, I missed you."

He buried his head in her shoulder and caught a whiff of her perfume. It smelled of raspberries. He held her a little tighter. "Yeah, I missed you, too."

They stayed like that for another moment, comfortable in the communal silence. Lori abruptly pulled away and he was surprised to see how bright her eyes were. "Lori?"

"Will you look at me?" she sniffled, rubbing her nose and giving him tremulous chuckle. "Getting all weepy."

"It's okay," he grinned. "Women are supposed to get choked up at times like this." She punched him in the shoulder. "Ow!"

"Chauvinist," she declared but brightened up considerably. "Any plans for dinner tonight?"

"Is that an offer?"

"It is if you want it to be."

"Then I haven't a thing to do," he answered. "Let me grab my wallet."

****

Jacques-Paul's didn't even compare to some of the ritzier restaurants he had eaten at in New York and LA but it had always been the best Pleasantville had to offer. All things considered, it wasn't half-bad.

And unlike New York or LA, he could enjoy some sense of anonymity.

As they began their appetizers, Lori took a dainty sip from her white wine. "I think we need to play a little game of True or False."

Merton raised a curious eyebrow. "'True or False?'"

"Well, the papers tend to exaggerate the truth, you know."

He couldn't help laughing a bit. "You make it sound like I'm a movie star. I'm not that famous."

"Two bestsellers and the declaration that you're the next Stephan King?" She smirked. "Not bad for someone who isn't even famous."

"Okay, okay, you've inflated my ego sufficiently." He gestured with his fork and speared another piece of lettuce. "What do you want to know?"

"The third book – late?"

"Um, false – at least from my end. I'm working on the final draft right now. They just want to push back the publishing date."

"Why?"

"To keep the fans in suspense, I guess. It's internal politics. I don't have much say in the matter."

"Hmm, sounds like you need a better agent. Or lawyer," Lori added, methodically cutting up her shrimp cocktail.

"Oh? Looking to move from criminal to corporate law?"

"Oh no, I deal with enough sociopaths as is, thanks." She paused, searching for another tidbit that had actually seen print. " The movie deal – true?"

"True. Bryan Singer wants to direct."

"Really? Oh yes, speaking of which," Lori lowered her voice and leaned in closer to him, an evil glint in her eye. "What about you two?"

Merton blinked. "What about us two, what?"

"You aren't a couple?" She sounded oddly disappointed.

He nearly choked on his food but managed to keep his laughter down. "Uh, no. Where in the world did you hear that?"

"Oh, you know." She waved a hand in the air. "Around."

"Well, ignoring the fact that he's nearly fifteen years older, the only thing between us is a dinner, LA style, strictly business. I may think he's a nice guy but that doesn't mean I want to hop into bed with him."

"Okay, okay. I get the point."

Merton sighed. "Where do people get the idea that I swing both ways? Is it me? Do I give off gay vibes?"

Lori chuckled. "You don't give off gay vibes. It's just your image. People assume things."

"Including you, apparently," he said sourly. "And since when do I have an image?"

"Merton, you're wearing a waistcoat and ruffled shirt." She gestured at his current ensemble. "What do you think?"

"I have an image," he agreed and groaned. "No wonder I can't get a date."

"Ah, dates," she mused. "So if Bryan's out, who's in?"

"No one at the moment," he admitted. "All the girls I've met lately either seem to be underage fans or Hollywood sharks."

"Sounds like fun."

"Well, it could be worse. I'm not sure how, but I'm always confident in my cynicism," he shrugged. "What about you, anyway? Last I heard, you were engaged."

Lori remained very quiet for a moment before taking a large swallow of wine. "It didn't work out."

"Oh." He frowned and looked down. "Oh jeez, I'm sorry."

"I'm not," she sighed. "It was a mistake. I know it was a mistake. Don't worry about it."

He suspected there was something more she wasn't saying but he let it drop. "So how's work, then? You're with the DA's office in Philly, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Not much to say, really. The bad guys do bad stuff, we try to put them away, we usually don't succeed, but occasionally we get lucky."

"Uh-huh." Merton saw the downslide in conversation coming quickly and struggled to find something to keep it on track. "What about your cases? Any interesting ones?"

"Um, well, most of them are pretty unimpressive." She paused then added, "I did an assist on the Ricci case, though."

"The Ricci…" His eyes widened. "The mob boss Ricci? That Ricci?" The indictment of the vicious Mafioso had made national headlines.

"Yep. That Ricci."

"Wow. Weren't you nervous? You always hear about mob retaliation in the movies."

"A little, I guess," she shrugged. "It was more from the size of the case than from Ricci himself. The idiots we stared down in high school were scarier, to be honest. Which doesn't say a whole lot for the Don."

"Still, wow," he shook his head. "That's pretty incredible."

"I just did an assist. It wasn't like I was first chair for the prosecution or anything. Not exactly the coverage you get."

"Honestly, I wouldn't mind a little less coverage," he told her. "Besides, aren't you sick of talking about me yet?"

"Well, your life's more interesting."

****

"So-so then," Lori grinned. "I told him – you'll never believe what I told him."

Merton barely avoided tripping on the stairs and falling face first on the landing. Instead, he just stumbled into the railing. "What did you tell him?"

"I said, if he wanted me to screw him, he'd have to wait until the trial!" She laughed hysterically then fell over her heels. He caught her but her momentum sent them both careening into the door to his room. She giggled, which was very strange because Lori didn't giggle. Chuckled maybe, laughed occasionally, but never giggled. It was a little disconcerting. "Oops. I think we drank just a little too much."

She held up her thumb and forefinger an inch apart to illustrate her point. Merton nodded, then swayed as his vision blurred. "I think – I think my eyes aren't moving with the rest of my head."

"Well, that's certainly a new problem," she answered huskily.

"Uh…" Not really sure what she meant but at a rare loss for words, he fumbled with his key in a valiant attempt to get his door open. Eventually he succeeded and swung inside, Lori hanging onto his shoulders.

"You are so cute when you're flustered," she told him, then blinked at the large hotel room. "Whoa. Nice pad you've got here."

"It's not really mine," he answered but had to admit she was right. It was a nice suite, an added perk of the advanced paycheck he had received for his next novel. He had some difficulty getting them to the nearest of the two twin beds, since Lori kept trying to take off her shoes in the process but he finally managed to deposit her on it then sit beside her.

"Still," she nodded, looking around. "It's very, um, what's-the-word…"

"Nice?"

"Swank!" She held up her finger in an "a-ha!" gesture.

He blinked. "Isn't the word swanky?"

"Nope, swank." She giggled again and fell onto her back, her legs still dangling off the bed. "Totally, you know, _shwing_!"

"I really hope _not_ shwing," he muttered and slowly began to stand up. She grabbed his arm before he could make it.

"Where are you going?"

"To call you a cab."

"Why?" She pulled him closer to her, sitting up at the same time. The scent of raspberries was now mixed with the strong smell of alcohol. She lowered her voice, her eyes shining. "Weren't you comfortable?"

He had to admit he was. "I'm not, um, uncomfortable, really."

She smiled and didn't say anything immediately, holding his hand tightly. She leaned in closer, their lips almost touching. "Has anyone ever told you, you have the most amazing blue eyes?"

Her hands snaked up around his neck, her touch cool. His heart skipped a beat. "Not recently."

"Well, you do. Just really gorgeous, unbelievable blue eyes." She leaned to the side and placed her mouth by his ear, warm breath sending chills down his spine. "Have I ever mentioned how sexy that is?"

Her teeth caught his earlobe and her mouth began to tease. He swallowed and tried to ignore the rapid heat spreading through his body. "You're drunk."

He felt her smile against him as her mouth started working down his neck. "So are you."

It would be so easy to let that be it, to let Lori continue down and let whatever came naturally afterwards happen. He moaned and thought about doing just that as Lori's tongue began to tickle his jaw line. But despite all those perfectly wonderful, logical excuses, he still knew it wasn't right.

Even if he did want it as much as she did.

So he wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered, "Drunk enough not to regret this in the morning?"

Her entire body went rigid. Her mouth stopped and her head dropped onto his shoulder. She stayed quiet for so long he actually wondered if she had passed out. "Lori?"

"You know, I really hate it when you're right," she answered, muffled against him.

He smiled slightly and gently lifted her arms from around his neck. "Don't think I'm not extremely tempted."

"Yeah, yeah." Her previous drunken exuberance quickly evaporated. She collapsed back onto the bed and curled up on her side. She sounded achingly young when she spoke again. "Do you still want me to leave?"

"Only if you want to."

"I was kind of hoping to spend the night," she sniffed, then gave him a half-smile. "Even if it is in separate beds."

"Yeah," he said softly, brushing back a small lank of hair from her face. "That's fine."

"Good," she yawned. "I don't want to lose you, too."

Her voice trailed off and moments later, she was quietly snoring. He grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and threw it over her. Silently, he took off his shoes and stripped down to his boxers before collapsing into his own bed. It dawned on him to wonder what her final words had meant, but he realized he knew exactly what she meant after all and slowly drifted off to sleep.

****

When Merton awoke the next morning, his head was throbbing and Lori was gone. He noticed a small note addressed to him on the nightstand and opened it up.

Sleeping Beauty,

I'm at the restaurant downstairs.

Meet me there whenever you roll out of bed.

-Lori

PS Your wardrobe still sucks.

He smiled slightly, winced at the pain that sent through his abused cranium, then crumpled the note and threw it away. He relieved himself and took a brief shower, feeling a little more human afterwards even with the lingering headache. He threw on an old sweater and cargo pants and after a brief, painful glance at the sunlight outside, added a pair of sunglasses as well.

He made it down to the hotel diner without much incident and spotted Lori at one of the booths, intensely pursuing the business section of the _New York Times_ and enjoying a cup of coffee. He noted she was wearing one of his T-shirts over her pants as he slid in across from her. She looked up from her reading and smiled brilliantly at him. "Good morning!"

"Ugh."

Her smile just widened. She slid a glass of water and two tablets to him. "Here."

He stared at them. "What's this?"

"Aspirin, because you're probably hungover."

"Ugh." He accepted the pills and swallowed them quickly. "How the hell are you so chipper this morning?"

"I have a fast metabolism." She inclined her head towards him. "That outfit's not quite up to your normal level of flamboyance."

"The fans like it if you dress the part," he shrugged. "I'm too old to be that angsty anymore."

"Oh yes, an old geezer of twenty-eight, that's what you are," she grinned. "Be careful you don't start going senile on us."

"Again, I reiterate: ugh." Lori waited until he had gotten a cup of black coffee from the waitress before folding up her paper and leaning on her arms against the table.

"So."

He looked at her from over the rim of his glasses. "So what?"

"So ask me what I'm doing tonight."

Maybe it was the hangover but he was having a lot of trouble following her line of thought this morning. "What are you doing this evening?"

"Thrilled that you asked. I'm going to our class reunion, how about you?"

And in a strange way, he actually saw where she was going. "The same."

"So, since I'm going and you're going and we don't seem to have any significant others tying us up, I was wondering if you wanted to be my date."

Her logic was perfectly inescapable but he found himself reluctant to agree. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It isn't?" she frowned.

"Well, after last night-"

"Last night is history," she cut him off firmly. "You were right, we were drunk. So forget last night. I'm talking about tonight when I'm going to see all the people I hated in high school with the good friend who hated them, too."

"Damn you and your amazing powers of persuasion," he mock growled. "Okay you talked me into it. On two conditions."

"Name them."

"One, you drive. Two, I want my Cure T-shirt back."

"Done and done." She offered him her hand. "We have a deal?"

"We have a deal." They shook on it. "May the world tremble before us."

Lori shrugged and picked up her paper. "They always did."

****  


The old school gym was appropriately festooned with balloons and steamers, a sign welcoming back the Class of '01 hanging just above the main entranceway. Matchbox 20 blared from the speakers of an overly expensive sound system, looked after by one enthusiastic alumnus, "Kevin" written on his nametag. Whoever Kevin was.

Merton and Lori received their own tags from a cheery, pregnant girl whom Merton was shocked to discover was his ex-girlfriend Raven St. Claire. Blinking at the sight of such domestic bliss coming from the former, oh-so-serious Goth, he accepted her excited greetings dazedly.

"We'll have to chat after everyone arrives," she patted him on the arm and grinned. "I've got hostess duty until then."

Raven smiling. It was so very – alternate universe. He tried not to stare too much. Lori smirked and smoothed his nametag out. "A little shell-shocked, there?"

"Um, yeah, wow." He shook his head. "Raven, married. Wearing pink. It's a little hard to all take in."

"Just wait until everyone gets a load of us."

It was tough to imagine people paying any attention to them because he honestly didn't think he had changed so much since high school. At the very least, he knew that they made a pretty good-looking couple. Lori had worn a simple, sleeveless black dress, slit up one thigh, a matching gauzy shawl adding the right shade of elegance to it. He had opted for a dark purple silk shirt, untucked, with a black blazer and slacks. Not exactly traditional, but trendy all the same. However, that still didn't prepare him for some of the astonished looks they received as they descended the stairs to the gym proper. He glanced at Lori who smiled back at him.

"See? Stares."

"Somehow I think most of that's for you." He squeezed her hand and said earnestly, "You look great, you know."

"Hmm, no, I think you're drawing most of that attention."

"Me?"

"Yeah." She raised an eyebrow at him. "You do realize you're now one of the most eligible bachelors in our graduating class."

He thought about that for a moment and nodded. "Well, that's true." That got him an elbow in the stomach. "Ow. I was only agreeing with you."

"Cut it out, you egotist." But the grin still hadn't vanished. "Shall we really blow their minds and mingle?"

"Oh by all means, let's."

Merton had always split the student body into two main groups: the escapees and the lifers. The escapees were people who had taken the first available opportunity to get out of Dodge and had never looked back. The lifers were the ones who had been born in Pleasantville and would in all likelihood die in Pleasantville.

Merton wasn't entirely sure what Hell was like, but for him that was as close as it got.

The first person he ran into (or rather was cornered by) was Roger Hunt. In school, Roger had been on the varsity football team, dated a cheerleader with the unlikely name of Bunny, and had the build of a brick wall with the IQ to match. It didn't look like a whole lot had changed.

"Merton Dingle, right?" Before Merton could confirm or deny that charge, Roger grabbed his hand and began pumping it. "I'm Roger. Roger Hunt? Varsity football?"

"Sure, sure, Roger, I remember." Roger hadn't been a major tormentor of his – Roger's hormones had taken care of that problem and he spent most of high school chasing anything in a skirt – though that hadn't stopped him from assisting Tim and Travis with a locker-stuffing or three. "How have you been, Roger?"

"Can't complain, can't complain." The statement was made with just the right amount of edge to it that suggested yes, he really could. "I'm working construction out in Hamilton right now."

Merton grinned and bore it. "Hamilton. That's, um, great, Roger. I'm happy for you."

"Well, steady paycheck, right?" Roger shrugged and eagerly moved on to another subject. "Say, you're doing that book thing, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah, that's me."

"How's that going for you?"

Merton fought the urge to slam his head repeatedly into the nearest wall. "Well, I made the bestseller's list, so I guess it's going pretty well."

Whatever had kept the wind in Roger's sails for that long vanished and his strained smile faded. "Oh. That's good, man. Real good. Listen, I need to see some other people, 'kay? Nice talking to you though."

"Same here." Roger retreated quickly and Merton couldn't say he was particularly sorry to see him go. Most of the first hour passed in much the same way. People he had barely known or who had worked hard to make his life miserable were now all nice and smiles, acting like he was their oldest friend, trying to convince themselves that high school had indeed been the best time of their lives. It was almost painful to watch and by the time he caught back up with Lori, he was nearly ready to go home.

She took one look at him and silently handed him a glass of scotch. "You look like you could use this almost as much as I could."

"Why do you think I made you drive?" he grimaced and swallowed half the glass in one go. "I'm seriously thinking of pulling a John Cusack and just telling them I'm a professional hit man."

"Yeah, the hypocrisy's running pretty thick tonight." She gestured towards a free table and they both sat down at it. "I just had Mary Keebler tell me how much she wished we kept in contact for all those years."

"Who's Mary Keebler?"

"Exactly," she sighed. "Is it me? Am I the only one who's turned off by this perverse desire to relive the good old days?"

"You didn't have to come," he pointed out.

"Neither did you," she countered. "Maybe we're masochists."

"I don't know." He shrugged and polished off his drink, a pleasant buzz beginning. "I have to admit I was at least a little curious to see what everyone's been up to."

"And curiosity killed the cat," Lori concluded. "A twisted, horrible curiosity."

" I don't know about that, either." He looked around at all the people in the gym and realized he really didn't hold any true animosity towards any of them. The strongest feeling he could muster was a sort of vague apathy. "I mean, I've done well for myself, and god knows, in high school I dreamed of coming back and lording it over all the losers that made my life suck. Now?" He shrugged. "It's not important. But for most of them, it is. Maybe coming back here we can prove to ourselves once and for all that we're beyond all this."

Lori stared at him. "That actually made sense."

"And I don't normally?"

"Not really." She ignored his pout and surveyed the gym on her own. "Everyone here just wants things to be like they were. And honestly, things weren't all that great. I can think of a dozen reasons to never want it to be that way again."

They could both think of one reason why they would, though. She didn't say what it was and he never brought it up, but it remained unspoken between them, a silent bond. He simply took her hand and held it. And if her eyes were a little brighter than they should have been, he didn't mention it.

****

Maybe he would have been able to make it through the rest of evening otherwise. Maybe he would have believed his own, little white lie. Maybe he would have drunk some more punch, traded some more quips with Lori, then headed home to never think about high school again.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But then Merton ran into Dean Dawkins.

He didn't recognize him at first. He bumped into someone and when he turned around, there was an awkward looking man behind him. He smiled politely. "Oh sorry there."

He was about to forget about it when the man spoke. "Holy hell, Merton Dingle?"

Merton just blinked and tried to place the stranger. The man gave him a huge smile and took his hand. "It's Dean Dawkins. Tommy's brother?"

Merton felt his jaw hit the ground as he finally recognized Tommy's older sibling. Stunned, he shook the man's hand. "Dean? Uh, wow, I didn't recognize you there."

"Yeah," the older man chuckled. "Amazing what shedding a little extra weight can do for you, huh?"

"Yeah," Merton agreed. Last time he had seen Dean, he had been a morbidly obese post-grad who spent most of his days sitting on the family couch. The man before him wasn't exactly svelte, but weighed about two hundred pounds less and had a sad maturity about the eyes that hadn't been there a decade earlier.

"So how you been, man?" Dean slapped him fondly on the back. "I heard about that book deal. Amazing shit, my friend."

"Yeah, so I've heard," Merton smiled weakly. "What about you? What're you doing here?"

"Well, Tommy couldn't be here, so I came instead." Dean looked around with a bittersweet fondness. "This old place really hasn't changed at all, has she?"

"No, she hasn't," Merton agreed quietly. "You've been well?"

"Yeah. Got a job at Fisher-Price in their marketing department." Dean gave him a wide grin. "I get paid to play with toys. It's pretty wild."

"Right. Listen, I gotta go, Lori's waiting-"

"Oh yeah, Lori. Haven't seen her since the memorial service. She's good, too, I hope."

"Yeah, great. She's peachy," Merton began to slowly inch away. "I'll tell her you said hi."

"Oh no problem," Dean waved him off. "I'm just glad to hear she's well. You take care, alright?"

"Alright, will do." Merton smiled and nodded, feeling desperation begin to claw up his gut. Dean gave him an odd look but nodded and soon moved off.

Merton waited until the retreating figure with the sad eyes was lost in the crowd, then fled into the night.

****  


Emerson Park hadn't changed at all in his absence. Even the small gazebo by the edge of it was still there, a testament to the town's ability to rebuild no matter what happened. Merton slowly sunk onto the gazebo's bench, clasping his hands tightly and hanging his head. He tried to calm his breathing but was finding it difficult to get much air around the catch in his throat.

"There you are." He looked up and found Lori taking a seat beside him.

"Lori?" He tried to keep the tremor from his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw you run in terror, I followed. What are _you_ doing here?"

He smiled weakly. "I just needed some fresh air."

She looked at their surroundings. "Long way to go for it."

"The air's better here."

She didn't answer and he was thankful for it. She simply stayed beside him for a time, listening to the cicadas and crickets, watching the wind make some of the stray leaves dance to an unknown beat.

"It was today, you know."

Her answer was soft. "I know."

"Ten years," he murmured, staring off into the distance. The moonlight created long, intricate patterns among the trees, making the open space feel somehow claustrophobic. "Where did you think you'd be in ten years?"

"I don't know," Lori admitted. "I don't think I really thought about it at all."

His mouth twitched in what was almost amusement. "No dreams of what you wanted to be when you grew up?"

"No," she paused then added, "Well, I had thought about becoming a stunt woman."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not?" she shrugged. "I had eleven years of Tae Kwon Do behind me. I could've done it. But – I don't know. I just stopped thinking about it. Decided to do something safer. What about you? Where did you think you'd be?"

"Anywhere but here."

He wouldn't look at her as he said it, not sure he wanted to see her reaction. She frowned but waited another minute before asking, "Was it really that bad?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "It really was."

She moved closer and placed an arm around him, leaning her head against his shoulder. It wasn't quite a full Lori Baxter hug, but was comforting all the same. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Yes. God, I don't know." He leaned back and she moved with him. He let his head rest against hers so that they supported each other. "It's been so – I don't know if I can do it anymore."

"Sure you can," she encouraged. "I know you, Merton. You've got a gift for words. Use it."

He found himself getting choked up again and sniffed slightly. "I've had to keep quiet on this for so long. No one could ever understand."

"I can." She drew him a little closer. "Please. I want to know. What happened?"

And he told her.

****

__

Merton threw his books and supplies into the passenger seat of the hearse and tore out his driveway like a bat out of hell. His research on the Vesperi demon had revealed little about its abilities other than the demon usual – overly strong and fast but not too bright on the uptake. Nothing special on what set it apart from other demonic entities, although he could tell from first-hand experience that washing wasn't real high on its priority list. However, from what he managed to find, most of the generic banishment spells should be fairly effective on it, so it was only a matter of keeping it in one spot long enough to perform the right ritual and send it back where it came from.

__

Provided Tommy hadn't already been defeated.

__

Which was stupid of course. Tommy had beaten things twice the Vesperi's size and three times its brain capacity while barely breaking a sweat. To think that anything was going wrong on this occasion was ridiculous. The two of them were old hands at the vanquishing business. No way was some second-rate demonspawn going to outdo their dynamic duo.

__

Nevertheless, he didn't hesitate to step on the gas. No rest for the good guys.

Well, that, and he was going to be later than expected. A minor disagreement with Becky had led to dishwashing and the removal of the kitchen garbage at the behest of his mother. Honestly, some people just didn't get the importance of preventing any potential apocalypses.

__

He was maybe a half-mile from their meeting spot in the park when his car stalled.

__

"Oh no. No, no, no. Not now." He turned the key twice, hoping fruitlessly that somehow his engine would magically come back to life but he only received a protest grind in response to his frustration.

__

He leaned back and chewed on his lip. Getting out of the securely locked car into an open area with a demon on the loose was not high on his priority list. And if previous experience was any indication, Tommy had probably already defeated the Vesperi with additional humiliation for good measure. There wasn't really any reason for him to be getting out there and risking his neck, was there?

Plus it would involve running the rest of the way. Merton Dingle did not do running.

__

"Oh, the heck with it," he muttered. He gathered his supplies into as small a pile as possible, threw open the car door and made a sprint for the park. _He rounded the corner and stopped dead._

__

The outlying area of the park resembled a war zone. The gazebo had nearly been demolished and the surrounding shrubbery didn't look much better. One bench had been overturned and another broken entirely in two. What looked like a thick oak branch stuck out from the roof of the gazebo. Of the combatants, there was no sign.

__

Merton barely noticed as the ritual supplies slid out of his numb fingers. He stepped gingerly into the center of the mess, cold dread gripping him. "Tommy? You here?"

__

His voice sounded overly loud in the stillness of the battleground. An unnatural quiet seemed to have settled over the area. No crickets chirped, no trees stirred, no car passed by. _The battle here had obviously been violent. Where was everyone? Shouldn't there have been an interested passer-by at least? Why was he here all by himself? Where was Tommy?_

__

A dark blot on a piece of gazebo wood caught his eye. Slowly, he inched towards it, his dread blossoming into a morbid certainty. He hunkered down next to it, getting a good look at the familiar color of blood. He reached a hand out to it.

__

It was still wet.

****

He had gotten up and was leaning against the wooden frame of the rebuilt gazebo, silently staring out into the dark, foreboding woods. He felt Lori's gaze at his back but didn't have the strength to look at the expression on her face. The truth had been his alone for so long that he thought sharing it might ease the burden. Instead he found himself more cut off than ever.

He heard movement behind him just before Lori appeared by his side, following his eyes out to the forest. Her face remained surprisingly neutral. "I assume you never told the police this."

He nearly laughed at the absurdity of the statement. "And say, what, that I thought the mayor's son had been eaten by a pissed off demon? Yeah, that would've gone over real well."

"No," she said quietly. "I guess not."

They stood side by side, letting the silence grow between them. Merton finally sighed. "I kept trying to convince myself he was still alive, you know? There was no body, so no one could ever say what happened for certain."

"I know the feeling."

"Man, I spent months looking into Vesperis." He clenched his hand and banged it against the pole next to him. "I got nothing. A mention here, a sketch there, that's it. I even tried special ordering books – really obscure stuff, from Pakistan, South Africa, Romania. Drained my bank account in about three hours. I couldn't find a damn thing."

She slid her arms around his waist and held him against her. Despite her size, it was an oddly protective gesture, almost maternal. She rested her head on his chest as he found himself clinging tightly to her, soft sobs beginning to escape.

"It's not your fault," she said softly. "You can't even think it was your fault."

"Oh god, I keep trying to," he whispered against her hair. "I keep trying and trying but I just wasn't good enough. I can't escape it."

She answered him in the same, soothing voice. "I don't think we're supposed to."

And then he couldn't say anything more because the tears came and they wouldn't stop.

For how long they stood there, he didn't know. The crying subsided, but he couldn't bring himself to let go and she made no move to leave. He took comfort in her presence, the way her body moved next to his, the feel of her heart against his chest. When was the last time he was able to open up to anyone like this, to bare himself to them? Standing there, with Lori in his arms, he realized he had nearly forgotten how much he needed someone to understand him so intimately. No expectations, no assumptions, just acceptance for who he was. 

And for that brief moment, he imagined he almost felt at peace.

***  


They didn't talk much after that. Lori eventually drove them back to his hotel and when she entered his room with him, Merton didn't object. She took off her shoes, lay down on the bed and with a silent tilt of her head, invited him to join her. He did so, stretching out beside her and laying his head against her breast, arms against her waist. She wrapped the comforter around both of them and in that manner, they fell asleep.

Morning broke out bright and clear and was a mostly silent affair. Lori borrowed his clothes again, earning a knowing smirk from the desk clerk, who then received an icy glare in return from Merton. They ate a light breakfast before Merton accompanied her out to her car. He leaned against the back door as Lori retrieved a pair of sneaker from the trunk to replace her heels.

"Sure you have to leave so soon?" he asked.

She sighed. "Unfortunately. I'm due back at work tomorrow, so I can't miss this flight. What about you? Are you heading back?"

"Not yet. Promised the folks I'd visit. And Becky's got time off from grad school, so I'll be seeing her too."

Lori nodded and settled beside him, back against the car. What she said next couldn't help but surprise him. "I still dream about him sometimes." 

He stared at her. "What?"

She smiled, staring off into the distance, a little wistful. "Usually, I'm back in school, cleaning out all of my stuff from my locker. I empty out a whole pile of books and papers, all the while wondering how I'm going to get through the rest of my life. Then I close the door, and there he is, right behind it, leaning against the other lockers, giving me that wonderful goofy grin. And he says, 'What, you thought I was going to miss graduation?' And he gives me this big hug and I know everything will be okay."

He swallowed and looked away. "You never told me that."

"Well, you weren't around much for me to tell anything to," she pointed out, not sounding upset, only saddened. "We – we all have our scars, Merton. All that means is we survived and there's nothing wrong with that."

God, he didn't want to talk about this but found himself opening his mouth all the same. "Even if Tommy didn't?"

She shrugged. "Maybe not. But then, like you said, there was no body. Maybe he's still out there, lost perhaps, but doing his best to kick a little ass in the name of truth, justice and the Pleasantville way."

She said it with such a straight, serious face that she startled a laugh out of him. She raised any eyebrow, probably wondering if he'd finally lost it, and that just made him laugh harder. Slowly, a grin spread across her face as she watched him, waiting until the chuckles had finally petered off. "Feeling better?"

"A little." He drew her into a hug. "Did I mention how much I've missed you?"

"Not recently."

"Well, I have. A lot." He inhaled and sighed. Raspberries. "Tell me why I didn't look you up when I found out you'd moved to Philadelphia?"

"Because you're a clueless dork," she retorted and pulled back. "I hope this means you'll do a far better job keeping contact over the next ten years then you did for the previous ten."

"That's a promise." He looked down into her eyes, wide, deep, beautiful. He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, warming at the sight of the smile that had softened over the years but never lost its edge. He almost closed the distance between them, allowed himself to cross that one last line they'd blurred in a brief sputtering of passion two nights previously. At the last second he stopped himself and simply grazed his lips against her forehead. Maybe one day…but not today. "Better go before the plane leaves without you."

Was that disappointment he saw in her face? He couldn't be sure and it was gone in an instant. She gave him another squeeze before slipping out of his arms and heading to the driver's door. "Right, I'm off. Give me a call when you get back to New York."

"Will do."

She slipped into her seat and slamming the door. The car came to life and she rolled down her window. "Want me to mail the clothes back to you?"

"Nah, keep 'em. Think of them as a souvenir."

"And if anyone but you had said that, they'd be flat on their ass right now." She grinned, then sobered briefly. "Not to belabor the point, but I want to make sure you know it's not your fault."

His chest tightened but he managed a smile. "Ten years of guilt doesn't disappear so easily but I'll try."

She tilted her head. "I guess I'll have to live with that. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

She roared off, pulling into traffic with careless ease and proving that Lori hadn't grown entirely out of her thrill for living on the edge. Merton watched the car for as long as he could until it was no longer distinguishable from any other automobile. Even then he stayed, watching the cars zip by, imagining her journey home, the scenery she's pass, the stops she'd make. In his mind's eye, he saw her not as she was now, but ten years previous, young, uncompromising, experiencing each moment to its fullest. In many ways, she still remained that hopeful teenager, ready to take life by the horns and beat into submission if she had to, just as long as she found a path that was undeniably hers.

Merton shook his head. God, but his metaphors needed work.

He turned away from the sun and walked back inside.

FIN


End file.
